


Absolutamente

by Umpleby



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23384188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umpleby/pseuds/Umpleby
Summary: I wanted to write a deep and meaningful exploration of their relationship so far, but it turned into a PWP...go Agnes and Cristobál! Dedicated to all the authors in the fandom.
Relationships: Agnes Jurati & Cristóbal Rios
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	Absolutamente

She had only had time enough to give him one serious look before she takes Picard’s body away. Over the next forty-right hours he hears that she has worn herself down to a shadow; trying to save him. At last there is a hiatus in that great, history-making effort; now there is just the waiting to meet either success or heartbreak.

He has always been good at seizing the moment, so he finds his way to the small quarters she’s been given, the room where Sutra had thought to hold her prisoner. He is hungry for even a glimpse of her. But what if she’s asleep and he has to stand outside with his nose pressed to a window, like a child looking into a sweetshop? Well, there they would find him, all dignity gone.

She has just come out of the shower when he knocks. The strain shows in the set of her shoulders but otherwise she looks very young, with damp hair and in just a short shift dress.

She smiles that megawatt smile when she sees him. He had hoped she would run into his arms, but he recognises something of his own, long-ingrained caution in her. It will take him months, perhaps years of slow, patient work for her to come running home to him, work he finds he’s happy to do.

She looks at his face in that searching way she has and she must have found what she wants; because she does come to him then, stopping an inch away and looking up into his face with that heart-stopping smile. “You don’t seem like you’re all there without your cigar,” she says.

He carefully puts his arms around her and kisses her soft skin, and then her rosebud mouth, his hunger and worry and need for her getting the better of him, so that she feels some of it in the way he bruises her with his kiss, the way his arms tighten around her.

She leads him to the sofa and he caresses his way down her, before settling her back among the cushions and pushing her dress up. He kisses and nuzzles at her thighs until she starts to giggle and relax at how his beard tickles her. He presses his face against her pussy, inhaling her through her little white panties.

He starts to stroke her through her panties, gently up and down, pushing into her just as gently, feeling the thin material start to become damp. She is relaxed now, legs spread wide, one hand running through her curls, her mouth in that classic pout of female arousal.

He feels inordinately proud and humble at being able to see her in all her glorious vulnerability. With all his failures, he, Cristobál Rios, disgraced starfleet washout, murderer and discarded tool of a vast paranoid system, could still make a woman like this sigh and blush and open up to him.

He keeps stroking her through her panties until her impatience grows enough that she hooks a thumb through the waistband; he loves hearing her low growls when she wants more.

He slides those panties off her and strokes her blond curls, kissing her pussy and enjoying its spicy musk, noting how her breathing quickens and her little sighs become throatier. She bucks against his mouth, she wants something, anything, inside her, but he won’t give her that satisfaction, not yet.

He starts to lick her clit with tiny licks, the kind that he knows she loves. He’s only made love to her once before, but it’s as if he was re-discovering a body he already knew well. He can read her sensations almost as well as if they were his. That, he supposes, is the dark gift of being broken: that’s how the light gets in.

The sunlight pours down on his dark head at play between her thighs, and into her open, moaning mouth, and breaks into sparks behind her eyelids.

Cristobal, she says suddenly, you’re wearing too many clothes, and she pulls away from him, smiling at his protests, and starts to undress him.

The sight of his bare chest had driven her wild before, and it does again; he grins at her frantic kisses and nips and licks all the way down him. When he is completely naked she kneels between his legs and hungrily takes his cock in her mouth. She hasn’t done that to him before, and she struggles with the thickness of it, licking and experimenting for a while before she gets it to sit right in her small mouth. It drives Cristobál crazy and he has to resort to swearing in Spanish to stay still and contain himself. He can feel her gurgle of laughter all the way down his cock. She starts to move up and down his shaft as he tangles his big hands in her curls. Her head feels so small, so finely made, and he’s careful to keep relaxed, although he wants to tighten his fingers in her hair and thrust into her mouth.

As she gets into the swing of it, on all fours, her bare bottom lifted up, he can see her glistening cunt reflected in a mirror, ready for plundering. He realised he isn’t going to last to fuck her unless he takes back control, and so he pulls gently away from her, and now it’s her turn to look disappointed.

Something wordless passes between them and she understands that he needs to be on top, he needs to confirm that freedom of her body that she’s given him, he needs a thrust and parry for all the violent desire and worry that’s been building in him since the start of this crazy adventure. 

He looks at her and into her while he positions her where he wants, and he smiles as he catches her fighting her own shyness, even after everything that’s passed between them. She’s on her back with her legs over his shoulders, and then he slides into her with an intensity that makes her forget herself. Everything blurs into one for her, his beautiful chest, the feel of his beard as she caresses his open mouth, his low howls of pure pleasure, the solid feel of him pushing deep into her womb, until they both disappear and there is only an ocean of light and sensation, and just at the edge of it, her natural alto going soprano.

When they come back to their bodies and disentangle themselves from each other, he gazes at her and allows himself to fall, without any kind of safety net, in love.


End file.
